


The Juniper Tree

by dreabean



Category: Supernatural, The Dresden Files (TV)
Genre: AU, Case Fic, M/M, Multi, Slow Build, challenge: kink_bigbang
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-09-06
Updated: 2010-09-06
Packaged: 2017-10-11 13:05:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,312
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/112718
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreabean/pseuds/dreabean
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"We're asking for help from a Wizard that advertises in the <i>yellowpages</i>?!"</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Juniper Tree

**Author's Note:**

> Overuse of Grimms Fairytales. I give no apologies.

**The Juniper Tree**

**Part One**

**The Tree**

The shadow blended in with the trees.  Almost too well, the blanket covered figure, toting something too large and gangly for its height, danced around the monkeybars and the swing set of a park.  The moon was full, but it shed no light on the cloaked beings face.  It was just darkness inset upon darkness.

There was a tree, much larger than the others, a red x drawn into its thick bark.  The figure stumbled and nearly fell into the hole that had been dug before the great tree.  It swore, its voice lost on the sudden wind, and it visibly shivered, dropping its burden into the hole.  The plastic bag crinkled loudly in the silence, and when it landed, parts - body parts - spilled out onto the damp ground.

Damp ground made damper by blood.  An arm, a torso, all carved up and flayed as though someone had stripped the meat from the bones immediately gathered flies despite the late hour.  The only part of the body that hadn’t been completely mutilated was the head - the head of a very small, underfed boy.

When the cloaked figure began to push the dirt back, filling the hole, the head was the first thing it covered.  Slowly, laboriously, the figure began to layer in the dirt.  Once a few inches had been laid down, she took off the blanket and laid down over the boy.  

She worked the rest of the night in silence but for the sound of her harsh breathing.

In the morning, no one noticed the over turned dirt.  No one noticed a dark haired woman leaving the park with a red ribbon tied around her neck.

They did, however, notice that the dead tree which had been scheduled for demolition had bloomed, and the scent of juniper blossoms floated out over the city.

-

 Harry Dresden was not having a good day.  His phone had rung at almost six in the morning, a time he generally didn’t see much of, and in his vast irritation at Murphy, the coffee maker had fizzled out.  Mister didn’t seem to be around either.

Though the morning was beyond salvaging as money was tight and Dunkin Donuts was too expensive even for him, he met Murphy at the address she gave him.  At first, it looked there was nothing wrong - the house he pulled up to wasn’t closed off by CAUTION tape, nor were there copious amounts of policemen milling around.  Just Murphy.

And Kirmani.

It was always Kirmani.

“What the hell is he doing here?” the aforementioned Kirmani demanded of a tense eyed Murphy.  

“Hey Murph,” he said, ignoring her boisterous partner.  “What d’you got for me?”

She jerked her head at the house.  “Missing kid.” Harry immediately felt her tension descend on him, missing children were always hard on the precinct, and Murphy had a nine year old at home.  

“Why’d SI get it?” he asked, honestly curious.

Still tense, Murphy replied, “third one this week.”

That was a sobering thought and Harry asked no more questions, allowing himself to be led into the immaculate living room of a lawyer and his wife.  The wife was crying silently into a handkerchief while her husband stood in the window gazing out without listening to or speaking with the policemen chattering nervously near by.  “Mr. Alloui,” Murphy murmured respectively, “Mrs. Alloui, I have someone who may be able to help.”  

Harry nodded to the man who stared impassively at him, and the wife lunged to her feet to grab at Harry’s lapels.  “Please ” she gasped, “you have to find his son ”

Harry cleared his throat.  “His?” he asked, hating himself when the man stiffened and left the room shortly.  “Not yours?”

Still sniffling, the woman shook her head.  “No, no, Cavin was a product of Louis’ first marriage...she died, and when I married Louis...he acted out, hated our new born daughter...” she sniffled again.  “I just want him to come home safely.  For Louis’ sake.”

A child of a deceased mother himself, Harry’s lip almost curled in a snarl.  He hated women who preyed on men who were still mourning.  Catching Murphy’s warning look, Harry cleared his throat.  “Ma’am, do you have something of Cavin’s?” he asked as politely as he was able.  “It may make my search a little easier.”

She thought for a moment, and when she lifted her head to look through a door, Harry’s gaze was immediately drawn to the red ribbon around her neck.  In the light it almost looked like...Patricia Alloui abruptly stood and left the room and Harry lost the train of thought.  

When she returned, she handed him a small plastic toy car.  One of the NASCAR series ones, and it had clearly been loved and seen far better days.  “This will do nicely,” he said.  “Thank you.”

Harry eyed the door before looking at Murphy significantly. They said their good byes and the minute they were back to the cars, Murphy looked at Harry.  “Dresden,” she said evenly, “what did you see?”

“The woman is hiding something,” Harry said immediately.  “She couldn’t even look at her husband, or you and I at all.”  Murphy nodded, she had noticed the same thing.  “She kept playing with the red ribbon around her neck,” he added.  “And in some lights...it looked like blood.”  She looked surprised, that one she hadn’t noticed.

“The car,” she said, gesturing.  “Are you going to use it to track him?”  Harry nodded.  “Will you be able to tell that he’s alive?”  He nodded again.  “How?”

“I’ll still have the car at the end of the spell,” he said, only half joking.

Of course, when he got back to the lab, and threw together the tracking spell, and the crystal exploded with green, black and red flames, he knew that there was going to be trouble.

The little car, melted plastic and metal sat in a blackened pool at the bottom of the calcinator.

“Harry?” Bob asked, from behind him.

“He’s dead, Bob.”  Harry turned around and looked at his old friend.  “Some one killed that little boy.”

At a loss, unable to help him, Bob said, “Harry, it’s not your fault.  There was nothing you could do.”

With a derisive chuckle, Harry agreed.  “Yeah, it’s not my fault.  But I’m the one who has to tell Murphy that.”

-

“Hey Dean,” Sam said.  “I think I got something.”  Dean grunted.  “Dean ” The brother in question started counting silently in his head, and as soon as he got to three, he ducked the pelted pillow.  “Jerk  Pay attention ”

“Bitch, I am ” He rolled over to look at his younger brother.  “What have you got, Sammy?”

Sam launched into a narrative about a serial killing of small boys in a small suburb of Chicago, and how closely it reminded him of the Grimms’ Fairytale caper with the girl like Snow White.  

Dean interrupted.  “If there’s only been three deaths, how are you finding out this shit about the fairytales?”

“Ash was in Chicago the other day,” Sam answered.  “He and Jo talked to a few of the water pixes, one of them, named Toot-Toot told him so.”  Dean made a face.  “Water sprites can’t lie, and they bribed him with pizza.” 

“So you want to go?” Dean asked, after debating on whether to question his brother about the pizza information.  

Sam nodded.  “We’ll have to get some help though, Chicago is a big place and...” he tossed an ad from a yellowpages at Dean.  “And he’ll make it easier.”

Distinctly unimpressed, Dean shouted after his retreating brother, “we’re asking for help from a wizard who is in the yellowpages?”

  Sam waved a hand at him before disappearing into the bathroom.  “Call him ” Dean was instructed.  “Just tell him that you’re Sam Winchesters brother.  He’ll know me.”

Dutifully, Dean dialed the number, and the other end began to ring.  It rang about five times before an out of breath voice answered, “Harry Dresden.”

“Uh.  Hi, Mr. Dresden, my name is Dean Winchester...and...” he was interrupted before he could say anything else.

“Sam’s brother?” was the response.  “Hell  I haven’t heard from him in too long.  He’s all right?” 

The man’s voice was warm, and carried a smile in it, and Dean had to wonder at how they met.  “Yeah he’s fine...he told me to call you...’cause...we’re going to be in Chicago in a few days.”

Harry’s voice lowered significantly.  “On a Hunt?”

“Y-Yeah,” Dean answered.  “How do you know Sam?” he finally asked, his curiosity getting the better of him.

Dresden chuckled, the sound low across the line.  “He managed to get into Chicago before going off to Standford, lost his ticket for the bus and tried to hitch-hike.  I picked him up and it’s probably a good thing I did because Chicago isn’t nice.”  He laughed again.  “Kid was adorable, so I’m glad he found you again.”

Sam walked out of the bedroom and snagged Dean’s cell from him.  “Hey Harry,” he said into it.  “Sorry I haven’t called.”  He grinned at whatever the other man said.  “I still say you should get a computer and live in the technological age.”  There was a pause where Harry was clearly saying something.  “We’ll be there in a few days.  Tell Bob I said hi.”  He hung up the phone and handed it back.  “You ready, bro?”

“Yeah...” Dean murmured, eyeing the phone, and feeling something he hadn’t felt in a very long time.  Jealousy.

* 

Harry laid the old rotary phone in the cradle of the handle and turned back to Bob.  “Thanks for making me get this,” he said, and Bob raised a sardonic eyebrow.  “It was Sam.  Winchester.”

“I remember Sam,” Bob said with a grin.  “Is he coming here?” 

Harry nodded.  “Yeah, him and his brother.  They’ve got a case.”  He leaned back in his rickety old desk chair.  “And Sam still owes me that spell - the one that’ll make me not kill every appliance in this place.”  Bob smiled a little and leaned over Harry.  “What?” he said, inelegantly.

“You missed him,” Bob said smugly.  “I told you not to let him go.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Harry muttered.  “Once again, you prove your omnipotence, Oh great Hrothbert of Bainbridge and you were right.”

The ghost in question snickered.  “That is what I like to hear,” he murmured.  “But, your knight in shining armor is coming back.”

Harry nodded absently, staring at the phone.  Finally, he picked it up and waving Bob silent with one hand, began to dial Murphy’s number.  It clicked to voicemail, and Harry said, “hey Murph, it’s me, come see me when you get this.”

It wasn’t something he wanted to tell her over the phone.  “I am sorry though,” Bob said after he hung up, “about the boy.”

“Yeah, me too,” the wizard breathed, leaning back again in the seat and scrubbing at his face with his hands.  “Kid cases are never easy.  Especially when they end up dead.”

Bob somehow managed to portray the illusion of leaning against something, and asked, “do you think this is a serial killer or something supernatural?” 

Harry shook his head.  “I have no idea.  If the kid was alive, that would be another story.” 

“Hmm...” the ghost mused.  “Have you thought of trying to find the body? Though the child himself is dead, there should be some remains.”

The idea had merit, and Harry dumped out the remains of the crystal into the palm of his hand.  With a flick of a finger, he unrolled the map of Chicago and blew lightly on the broken, slightly black shards.

They flew out over the city and froze over three separate spots.  A building in the skyscraper district - which was, on closer inspection, the work place of Louis Alloui, the suburbs, where Patricia Alloui was a homemaker, and one of the parks in downtown Chicago.

That wasn’t strange at all.

“Oh dear,” Bob murmured.  “That means nothing good.”

The last time he’d had a reading like that...now there was something else he had to tell Murphy.  

None of it was good.

*

By the time Dean parked the Impala in one of the underground garages close to Harry Dresden’s place, Sam was bouncing.  Legitimately bouncing.  “Sammy, I am going to cut them off if you keep jiggling your fucking leg ”

Sheepishly, Sam stilled his movements, and didn’t bother to correct Dean on his name.  “Sorry.”

“Yeah, well, you will be,” was the lame comeback, but Sam was already opening the door and halfway out of the Impala.  

Dean didn’t jog to catch up to him, though he wanted to, and when he finally did - they were already in front of Harry Dresden’s home and office.  Sam opened the door and barreled in, and Dean was treated to the rare sight of Sam being happy.  His grin was wide and infectious because the two people in the room were grinning too, and he was hugging the brunet tightly.  “Sam,” he said warmly.  “I’m glad you could make it.”

Sam pulled away from the embrace.  “You too, Har.  Bob.”  He turned to the other man in the room and held up a hand, instead of hugging him too.  The tall pale, white haired man placed his own palm against Sam’s, causing gold sparks of light to flicker.  “Glad to see you’re still in one piece.”  He winked, pulling his hand away.  “I’d be very upset with Harry should he drop you.”

“I would never ” Harry protested.  He turned to Dean.  “Hi, sorry, you must be Dean.  I’ve heard a lot about you.”  He had a strong handshake and a catching grin.  

“None of its true,” the elder Winchester said immediately.  “Sammy over embellishes.”Sam snorted.  “Because you didn’t run screaming from a house cat.”

Shooting his brother a look that promised to kill, Dean replied, “I didn’t run,” very primly.

Harry snickered, and just as he opened his mouth to reply his old rotary phone rang.  His face immediately sobered and Bob motioned the two brothers silent.  Harry lifted the receiver very carefully, and keeping his tone neutral said, “Dresden.”

Tinnily, through the old speaker Dean could hear a abrasive female voice.  “Dresden, what have you got for me?”

“Why don’t you come in, Murph.  It’s...not good.”  

There was a long silence, and she said, “he’s dead?”

Harry hesitated, then added, “yes...and there’s more.”

They exchanged times and Harry hung up the phone.  Everyone was very quiet and finally Dean asked, “how come you have a rotary phone?”

Sam snorted, Bob covered his smile with one hand, and Harry scowled at them both. “My magic tends to knock newer electronics out.  Usually completely.”  He continued to glare at the comedic duo in the corner before he finally turned to Bob.  “Why don’t you take Dean down into the Lab and show him the summoning circle.  Explain to him what he’ll need to summon one of the fairies from the Nevernever in order to catch whatever it is they’re Hunting.”

“Of course, Harry.”  Bob gestured to Dean who followed more out of curiosity than any real desire to leave Sam with the strange wizard.  “I apologize in advance Mr. Winchester, but you’ll have to open the door for me.  I cannot effect the material plane.”  And with that, the mysteriously dressed “Bob” vanished through the wall.

The second Harry heard the Lab door swing closed, he turned to Sam.  “All right, truth,” he said, but was cut off before he could say more.

“Truth later, kissing now,” Sam murmured, and kissed him deeply.  He was taller than Harry by at least four inches, and he tilted the older man’s head back, pulling him in close.

Harry’s eyes fluttered shut and he murmured between kisses, “what about Dean...and, Bob?”

Sam skated his lips over Harry’s cheek, over his jawline and down his neck.  “Like Bob didn’t watch us half the time anyway.”

When the kiss tapered off, Harry leaned his forehead against Sam’s.  “Stars and stones, I missed you, Sam,” he murmured.  “I’m glad you got your shit together.”

The door jingled open and Sam backed off quickly.  “Me too,” he said, with a grin.  “I’ll go join my brother.”

When Harry turned to face the newcomer, Murphy stood in the door way, one eyebrow raised.  “That was Sam, wasn’t it?” she asked her voice non-committal. “He’s back in town?”

Harry nodded.   “Yeah...he and his brother, actually.”  

“Awkward?” she asked insightfully.

“A little,” he responded.  They were silent for a long moment before the shine of one of his crystals caught his attention.  “Here, this is what I wanted to show you.”  He gathered up the broken pieces and displayed them on the palm of his hand.  “This is the crystal I used to try and find Cavin Alloui.  It exploded, meaning that the boy is dead.”  Murphy cursed under her breath.  “But B—I had an idea, the boy was dead but he must have left something behind, residue or a body, so I used this to find them.  Watch.”

Just like before, the three crystal shards floated rapidly over the map and fixated, slightly rotating over roughly the same buildings as before.  She stared at it.  “What does that even mean?”

“It means,” Harry said, his voice weighted, “that his body is in three different places.”

*

Bob smiled warmly when Sam clambered down the steps into the lab.  A half finished design was already painted in the air and Dean’s head shot up.  “Don’t walk through the incantation, or he’ll start singing sixteenth century show tunes ” he warned hastily.  “You think he’s joking? He’s not ”

Mildly, skirting the gold glittery writing, Sam asked, “did you manage already to do that in the ten minutes we left you here?”  Dean winced and nodded.  “Good going, jerk.”

“Shut up, bitch,” was the muffled response as Dean continued to copy down the summoning incantation they would need.

Bob raised an eyebrow but didn’t comment at the vocabulary.  “Did Lt. Murphy arrive?” he asked, talking in a low tone.

“Yes,” Sam answered.  “She’s not happy.”

The ghost winced.  “I can’t imagine she could be.  The death of children is always hard for adults to bear.  But, with The Professor’s help, we should find out why the crystal is broken up into three pieces.”

“I thought cannibalism,” Dean offered from the floor.

“You’re probably right.  Not about that symbol on the left, but your theory has merit,” Bob told him.

Dean paused, turned, looked at the symbol he had etched in careful charcoal, swore and erased it with his hand.  “Shit   How do you do this all the time, Sam?”

“Practice,” the brother and the ghost said together.  Dean’s face wrinkled up in a moue of irritation and he just went back down to continue fixing the summoning circle.

Roughly ten minutes later, Harry clattered down the steps, walking through the glowing words without pause or comment.  Dean let loose a low moan of disappointment which turned into an irritated growl when both Sam and Bob burst into song.  The same song.  Harry just chuckled, and with a quick gesture of his staff, the Circle was finished.  “I’d wait for you to start again, but we don’t have that kind of time.”

Bob took that moment to disappear back into his skull, the sockets glowing merrily for a moment before fading completely.  Harry, Sam and Dean took point around the circle and Harry cast the first Name.

The creature they summoned was not what either Dean or Sam were expecting.  The Professor was a wrinkled, purple skinned gnome with leathery wings and fine wire rimmed glasses on his ugly hooked nose.  He turned luminous yellow eyes to the three men.  “My, my, my, Harry Blackstone Dresden, you have brought me guests.  What sort of information do you require?”

Sam stepped forward.  “It was me who summoned you.  It is me you will answer to.”

The creature exchanged a look with Harry.  “Young, is he?  Very well then,” it continued in a fine British accent.  “What is it you require, Nameless Boy?”

“I require information on a little boy, Cavin Alloui - we know he’s dead and believe he is in three different places.”  Sam swallowed hard when the yellow flickering eyes of The Professor landed on him.  “I wish to know why that is.”

“Three different informations.  Three different Names.” The Professor said, grinning.  “If one of them is Dresden’s last Name, I’ll give you a two for one.”

“One Name,” Sam said.  “And I want to know about the Crystal in the park.”

“Oh very well, spoil sport.” The Professor waved a hand and just inside the Summoning Circle a large picture formulated.  A blossoming juniper tree with freshly turned earth around it was there.  “Find this tree, find the boys body.  Most of it.”  It grinned, showing off wide, sharp needle like teeth.  “And this for bonus, the Crystal in Alloui’s building? He ate his own son and didn’t even know it ” the creature hooted with laughter while the humans looked vaguely ill.  “Your name, Boy?”

Sam drew in a deep breath.  “Sam.”

The Professor grinned another dangerous grin.  “Is that short for Samuel or Samantha?” The youngest Winchester stared him down.  “Oh, never fear, Samuel.  I know who you are.  You were Azazel’s boy.  Do take care,” he warned him.  “You don’t know what you seek if you take on this entity alone.”

A crackle, then The Professor was gone.

Harry sighed heavily.  “All right.  I’ll check out the tree tonight.  Sam, Dean, you go to the Alloui’s - take one of the Crystal shards with you, better yet, take two.  See where they lead you.  And um...don’t pretend to be police officers.  Murph will kill you slowly.”

“Be careful,” Sam said with weight.

“You know me,” was the customary answer as Harry grabbed his trench, his staff and his blasting rod on the way out of the lab.  “Don’t wait up if you come home first, Sam.”

Dean looked at his brother.  “Ready, Sammy?”

“...Yeah.”  He shook himself, smudging out the summoning circle.  “Lets go.”

*

It wasn’t an ordinary tree.  The red X that had been spray painted on was bubbling, paint dripping down the angry looking bark in bloody lines.  The freshly turned over earth was shaking minutely, almost as if the tree was breathing.

Well.  He’d seen The Last Unicorn more than four times.  He wasn’t getting close enough to the tree for it to do anything unsavory.  Until he stepped on the mud around it.  The tree’s leaves all twitched, giving the canopy the image of a lion shaking out its mane.  And, straight out of the movie he still refused to watch, the juniper tree pulled a Whomping Willow.  Harry was flung halfway across the park, using his Shield bracelet to take the brunt of the force.  When he was back up on his feet, he hefted his staff and shouted, “fuego ” 

But the tree shook off the fire spell like it was made of water.  A slight fizzling noise and the smell of burned moss was all that was left within seconds.  Tactic two: “ventas servitas ” the wind kicked up around him, protecting him from the onslaught of branches but he was unable to get close enough to the trunk to do any lasting damage.

If he was outside the ring of mud, he was safe, the tree would settle down, but he got the sense that it was waiting.  Sensing.  Preparing.  

“You don’t have some sort of special knot to render you useless, do you?” he muttered, rubbing the ache in his ribs from the first hit he took.  The tree shivered, long branches reaching out in a surprisingly cat like stretch.

Aiming at the red X, Harry shouted, “forzare ” the punch of invisible force plowed through the branches and leaves to hit home.  A nearly inhuman shriek filled the air, and the X opened up just a little, just enough for him to see the face inside the bark.

It was definitely Cavin Alloui.

*

**Part Two**

**The Angel**

Sam went to knock on the door of Louis Alloui’s suburban home, but Dean caught his wrist just before his knuckles hit.  “You really just trust that Dresden guy?” he muttered.  “You seem to just follow his orders.” 

“I’m not just following...” Sam sighed and turned to face his brother.  “I know him Dean, he’s trustworthy.” 

“That’s just it, Sam  How do you know him?” 

Grunting in frustration, Sam pulled Dean back towards the car and out of ear shot of the doorway.  “Look, when I was trying to get to Standford, I hitch-hiked for the wrong guy.  Harry just happened to be there and got me out of what could have been a really bad situation.”  Dean raised an eyebrow, clearing wanting to know what the situation was.  “You don’t need to know what,” Sam said firmly.  “Just know that Harry saved my life.”

Dean pursed his lips.  “All right Sammy.  If you’re sure.”

“I am, Dean.  Promise.”

Sam did not want to be reminded of the night that Harry had to save him from the drunken truckers.  The whole experience, in his mind, was easily forgotten.  He was certainly not going to tell his brother.  Ever.

Dean fell silent, but kept brooding quietly, his face set in an impassive scowl.  Sam smacked him hard in the arm.  “If you keep making that face,” he growled, “you’re going to scare them.”  He knocked before Dean could make a protest, grinning smugly when the expression smoothed away.

Patricia opened the door.  “Can I help you?” she asked, her voice trembling, and her eyes red.

Dean’s nostrils flared when she leaned in close, and Sam gave him a perplexed look.  “We’re associates of Harry Dresden, I believe you met him this morning?” Sam said, when Dean didn’t say anything.  

“Oh, yes...” Patricia murmured faintly.  “Please, come in.”  They followed her through the door and into the sitting room.  “Has he found the boy?”

“...No,” Sam lied, “we just had a few more questions for you.”  She nodded at them to go on.  “Did Cavin get bullied at school?” he asked, and Patricia shook her head rapidly.

“Everyone loved Cavin.  And I know that most people say that about children who were being bullied, but he had lots of friends.”

Dean’s nose twitched again and he sneezed.  “Sorry, excuse me.  Mrs. Alloui, does your husband have any enemies? Anyone that might want to hurt him or his family?”

She took her time answering that one.  “Not that I know of.  I can get him?”

The eldest Winchester smiled charmingly.  “Please.”

Once the woman had left, Sam turned to Dean and gave him another confused look.  “What’s up with you?” he asked.

“Menthol,” Dean murmured.  “She’s covered in menthol.  I’d bet my life that those tears aren’t real, she’s using a glycerin stick.”

Sam grinned.  “Good...nose.”  He frowned a little at the phrasing but erased the expression when Louis and Patricia entered the room.  It was then that he made his move.  Sam opened his curled fist and let the two shards of vibrating crystal out.

One flung itself at Louis’ stomach, and the other at the ribbon around Patricia’s neck.

The Professor had been right.

Louis Alloui had eaten his own son.

Right.

*

Harry limped into his office several hours after Sam and Dean had returned.  He was dripping blood and mud everywhere, and figured that he’d cracked a rib or two.

   Sam gaped when he walked through the door.  “Shit, Harry.  What the hell happened to you?”

“I got turned into Harry Potter,” he grunted, collapsing into his rickety desk chair.  “The Juniper Tree that The Professor showed us? Whomped the willow right out of me.”

Sam winced.  “Here, lets get to the lab, I’m sure Bob will want to look at those bruises.”

“I’ve had worse,” Harry protested.  “Besides its not like he can really do much, other than make sure I’m not bleeding internally.”

“Yes,” Sam said, snippy, “and the last time you refused him, you were in fact, bleeding internally.”

Dean whistled under his breath.  “You get into a lot of trouble, don’t you Dresden?”  Harry’s grin was a little pained.  “Dude, and I thought Sam was bad.”

Harry turned to give Sam a Look, he’d learned it from Murphy; it was the stare you could only perfect if you’ve been given it more that twenty times in your life.  Sam squirmed, and shot Dean a glare.  Dean was more than happy to extrapolate on Sam’s many problems.  “You shot me in the chest with rock salt, you’ve picked up a Demon groupie, the Angels hate you...” Dean rattled off, grinning to show his brother he didn’t really mean it.

Irked, Sam scowled.  “Ghost disease,” he said succinctly.  

Harry snorted, breaking the suddenly tense moment.  “You two are worse than me combined.” He paused, turning to look at Dean.  “Angels?”

“Yeah  I have an Angel,” he gloated.  “Well, it was a little freaky at first, because he definitely Touched By an Angel’ed at me, but Castiel is pretty cool.”

“Angels,” Harry muttered.  “We don’t get Lord-y mumbo jumbo around here for decades then you have to go and screw it all...up.” He trailed off when Power slammed into his wards and the foundation blazed white - white? They usually blazed red when he was under....attack...

Standing in the middle of the room, clutching a hand over his heart, stood a man with wings.  “Castiel ” Sam cried, surprised.

“That’s your Angel? Does he have a pager?” Harry asked, trying for amused and only sounding brittle.

The man turned, large dark feathered wings stirring the air around him.  “Sam,” he said.  “What is this place? Why can’t I...” a pained look crossed his face as he tried to pull in his wings and failed.

“This is my home,” Harry said, curling one arm around his ribs.  “And it is warded against intruders.  Those who enter without permission leave the majority of their power at the door.”  He raised one sardonic eyebrow.  “That includes angels.”

Bob burst through the door a moment later, having felt the disturbance of the wards.  “Cas,” Dean said as Bob drew up in shock.  “What the hell?” 

The angel had managed to stand up straight, though his wings twitched with every breath.  “Dean, I had to come...” he panted.  “You are standing on top...of a Seal.”

Slowly Harry’s eyebrows raised.  “Well, duh,” he muttered.  “You think I set up in the heart of Chicago for fun?”

Castiel, Dean and Sam all turned as one to look at the wizard.  “You knew...that this is a Seal?”

Dresden rolled his eyes.  “My lab is built over a Holy Place in Undertown.  I have wards and protections all the way down to the bottom of it.  Let me show you.”  He jerked his chin at the only clear wall.  “Bob, please.”

The ghost stepped around Sam and pressed a hand to the wall.  Gold fire bled out from his palm to form the outline of the door.  “The only way down is through here,” the ghost said, backing away.  “Harry...if...your friend there, managed to get in, perhaps the evil he warns about can as well?”

Pinching the skin between his eyes, Harry groaned.  “Stars and stones,” he growled.  “Bob do you think you can come up with a better formula?”

There was clearly a smile in the ghosts voice.  “Of course I can.  Show your friends Undertown, and I’ll figure out the right things you need.”

Castiel, pulling his wings in as far as he could, stepped through the door followed by Sam and Dean.  Harry rolled his eyes at their backs and sealed the door behind them.  “Sam,” he murmured.  “What did you find at the Alloui’s?” 

“Louis definitely ate his own son,” Dean said grimly.  “And the wife? Definitely hiding something.”

In the gloom Harry turned to look at Sam.  “She was using glycerin sticks to stimulate her tear ducts,” the youngest Winchester said.  “Dean noticed that she smelled like menthol.”

“You sure?” he asked Dean.

He nodded.  “Well, her eyes were...shiny.  Like, she’d applied lip gloss to them.”

A feather brushed Harry’s cheek when Castiel turned.  “You are aware of our world? And you help them?”

Exchanging a look with Sam, Harry said, “what part of ‘I’m a Wizard’ didn’t you get?” Twitching his fingers, Harry lit the lamps with a murmured ‘fuego’ and he grinned.  “This, however, is my first time really helping The Winchester boys.  I’ve known Sam for a fair few years though.”

Castiel looked confused, but nodded, dipping his head.  “I see.”

Harry sighed.  Today was definitely not shaping up to be a good one.

The night wasn’t looking much better.

And Mister was still MIA. 

*

Undertown glowed with watery-green light, though deep underground, the light came from the stones above - each stone was formed in a circle.  Harry motioned for everyone to to stay put and be silent.  He pressed his hands into the greenish light and parted it.  It closed like a curtain around him though he was still visible.

The light intensified until it was too bright to see and when it faded, Harry stood facing them.  And impossibly, a huge set of white wings was supported behind him.  The three spectators stood transfixed, until Harry moved and destroyed the illusion.

The wings hung there, in the wintry light.  “Whose...?” Castiel asked, his own wings shivering.

Harry spread his hands, words appearing in a green light. “These are the Wings of the first Fallen.” 

Violently, Castiel jerked back.  “Lucifer ” he hissed.

The light winked out and Harry stepped back through the circle.  “Yes,” he said gravely.  “This is where he Fell.  All the Wardens know of it.  I just happen to be Warden of Chicago now.”

“So all the evil?” Castiel murmured, “all the wrong? It is caused by his Grace?”

The curtain of green light closed, and the image behind the circle was lost.  “Don’t worry, Angel,” Harry said sassily, “no one can get to it without their power intact.  You couldn’t even get through my wards without mishap.”

“But Lilith will be here,” Dean said.  “Right?”

Again Harry rubbed his temples, and said, “I think you’re going to have a lot of explaining to do.”

*

Harry rolled over in surprise when a body got into bed with him.  The clock on his bedside table stated it was four in the morning, he’d only been there for about two or so hours.  “Sam?” he murmured sleepily.  “Everything good?”

“I have something to confess...” Sam whispered against his neck.  “You aren’t going to like it.”

Harry pulled the covers up over them and curled up.  “Then tell me,” he yawned, “in the morning.”

Sam chuckled, leaving a kiss against the warm skin of his back.  “Kissing now, talking later?” he repeated, amused.  Harry grunted. 

“Too tired to kiss,” he murmured into the pillow.

Warmth bled up his spine as Sam arched against him, rubbing his hips into Harry’s.  “Too tired for this too?”

“We have no walls,” Harry reminded.  “And now we have more than Bob.”

Sam’s hand slid around his hip.  “Maybe Dean will join.”

“Yeah, maybe,” Harry murmured sleepily, before his eyes popped open and he turned sharply to look at the other man who was grinning unrepentantly.  “What?” the wizard said, deadpan, “was that?”

Sam’s grin widened. “It woke you up, didn’t it?” he said, laughing.  “Dean’s out like a light down stairs.”

“And you’re keeping secrets from him,” the now-awake Harry said.  “This have something to do with the demon in you?”  Sam’s grin dropped off his face and he paled, suddenly stiff in Harry’s arms.  “I have wards for a reason,” the wizard reminded him gently.  “I knew the moment you walked through the door.”

Though Sam knew Harry wouldn’t spill his secrets, especially not to someone he’d known for less than twenty-four hours, the youngest Winchester shivered under Harry’s gaze.  He wasn’t afraid to meet the wizards eyes, they’d Soul Gazed long ago, and the danger had already passed, but the confused recrimination he was certain to find there was terrifying enough.  “It’s...something that I’ve had to do.  Something...to defeat Lilith.”

“The enemy of my enemy, hm?” Harry mused.  “Look.  I can’t say I’m pleased with you, especially considering how the wards fluttered when you walked in.  But,” he added when Sam’s face fell, “I want you to have Bob research this demon.  And what may or may not be happening to you.  Got it?”

“Yeah,” Sam said.  “I got it.”  

Trying to placate him, Harry nuzzled into the hollow of Sam’s throat, feeling his pulse beating rapidly there.  Laying a gentle kiss on the bronzed skin, he murmured, “go to sleep Sam.  I’m not angry with you.”

Sighing, Sam wrapped his long arms around Harry and drifted off to sleep.  They had a lot of work to do in the morning.

-

By noon, Dean had five devils traps down, one at the floor of Harry’s front door, covered by a throw rug they’d found somewhere in a box, and one on the ceiling, a mirror image.  He laid the same at the back door, and one under the stairs leading down to the lab.

Sam had mixed salt in with the paint and had begun tracing the modified wards around the office, living area, and lab.  That was what Murphy walked in on, just a little before one in the afternoon.  “What the hell?” she said, stopping at the doorway.  She stood there frozen for so long a moment that Dean whispered, “christo” just to make sure.

“Harry ” she called instead of answering, stepping out of the circle and into the office.  “There are strange men in your office painting things and talking in bad latin ”

The man in question leaned over the balcony of his bedroom.  “I know ” he called back.  “We’re...renovating.” 

“Renovating,” she repeated.  “With pentagrams and paint?”

He smiled angelically at her.  “It’s all the rage.  Hold on a sec, Murph, I’ll be right down.”  A few seconds later, he clattered down the stairs and jogged into the office.  “Anyone seen the cat?” he wondered.  

“Is that some sort of non-sequitur?” Murphy growled.  “Dresden, I want answers.”  She eyed Sam and Dean.  “Starting with the guy who isn’t Sam.”

The younger Winchester waved sheepishly.  “Hey, Murphy.”

“The idiot in the corner is his brother,” Harry said.  “I told you about him the other day.” She nodded, giving them both significant looks.  “They’ve been helping me on the case.”  Murphy gave him her full attention and Harry gestured to the desk.  “I found his body.  But,” he warned when she opened her mouth, “you can’t get to it.  It’s pulled a Whomping Willow.”

“You hate Harry Potter.”

He gave her a flatly unimpressed look.  “I know.  Doesn’t make what happened any less true.”  She suppressed a chuckle.  “The boys over there, found that Cavin’s blood is on the red ribbon around Patricia Alloui’s neck.  And that Louis seems to have...eaten...at least a part of him.”

Murphy looked a little green around the gills.  “...Oh shit,” she swore softly.  “How are we going to get any of that as evidence?” 

“If we can get the ribbon that would at least place Patricia at the scene of the crime,” Harry said thoughtfully.  “Sam, Dean, any ideas on the amazing, moving tree?”

“We’ll check it out after we finish w–uh, redecorating,” Dean said. “Which park?”

Harry scribbled down the directions while Murphy called Kirmani and told him to pick up the wife on some faked charge.  They argued for a moment before Murphy clearly won the argument by hanging up on her overzealous partner.

“I need to get back,” Murphy said, “I’ll call you when we get the ribbon off her.”

“Thanks, Murph.”

She waved to Sam and exited without comment, and Dean sighed with relief.  “Dude, you’ve got some serious balls to be working with the police.”

Harry snorted.  “I don’t have a record,” he reminded Dean with a smile.  “I’d stay out of her partner’s way though.  Kirmani can be a douchebag.” 

When Sam emerged from the lab twenty minutes later, he had paint on the end of his nose.  Both Dean and Harry hid a smile from him and looked away, which Sam took immediate notice of.  “What?” he said.  

“Nothing, Sammy,” Dean said, still grinning.  “Lets get you cleaned up and we can check out the park with the Whomping Willow.”

“I am never,” Harry said, his voice heartfelt, “going to live that down.”

*

“The Demon they face is a powerful one,” Bob said from behind Harry.  “Her name is Lilith, and in folklore, she was the first wife of Adam.”  Harry winced.  “Exactly.  We have a lot of conflicting information about her, but I do know that she herself is a Seal, just like your Grace is.” 

“A Seal herself? Stars and stones.”  Harry rubbed a tired hand across his brow.  “Sam thinks he needs to destroy her.”

“That is disturbing news,” Bob murmured gravely.  “The demon that he has been...seeing, Ruby, her name, she was an underling of Lilith’s once upon a time ago, and is not to be trusted.  You need to get that demon blood out of your Sam as soon as possible.”

“Shit,” he swore.  “This is not good.  How do we do that?”

Bob looked smug.  “Look in my Grimoire from the 1300s,” he said.  “I have a cleansing spell in there.”

Harry raised a single eyebrow.  “Your Grimoire has a cleansing spell?” he asked pointedly.

The ghost shrugged immaterial shoulders. “I had to purge myself somehow,” he said.  “You think I wanted to walk around with all that demon blood in me?” He shuddered delicately.  “Red Courts are little better.”

“This situation keeps getting better and better,” Harry muttered.  “All right, I’ll look up the spell.  Anything else I should know?”

“Yes,” Bob murmured.  “Dean is jealous of you.”

Harry swivelled to face him.  “What?” he asked blankly.  “He is not.”

Bob snorted, wrapping one arm around himself to rest his elbow on.  “Harry, I realize that you are quite blind to the matters of the heart, but certainly you aren’t that oblivious?”  Harry merely blinked at him.  “Dean woke before either you or Sam this morning, Harry,” Bob said, succeeding at keeping any sadness out of his tone.  “He couldn’t find his brother and panicked, going up the stairs to find you.  Well.  He found a bit more than that, hm?”

“We didn’t do anything,” Harry said automatically.  “We were just sleeping.”

Bob gave him a significant look.  “Harry, if someone else was just sleeping with Susan how would you feel?” he asked, pointedly.

“I’d hate it,” was the immediate answer.  “Stars and stones,” he murmured right after, awed.  “That explains a lot.”  He lowered himself into the chair before him, rubbing his mouth with one hand.  “You think that Dean has feelings for Sam?”

Though Bob clearly couldn’t have been leaning on the wall, he gave the illusion of lounging gracefully to answer.  “Yes,” he said slowly, “I believe that his feelings are reciprocated,” he added.  “When Sam was here, and your relationship blossomed, Sam didn’t touch you nearly so much as he does now.  I believe he is making a point.”

“You’re probably right.”  He tapped a long finger against his desk.  “So what do I do?”

Bob smiled.  “Nothing.”

“Nothing?”

“Nothing.”

Well.  That was disgustingly unhelpful.  Harry raised an eyebrow.  “You seriously want me to pretend that I won’t be noticing?”

For a ghost, Harry thought, Bob sure sighed a lot.  “No,” he said patiently.  “I want you to notice and pretend to not care.”

That logic was infinitely beyond him.  “Uh.  Why?”

“Because it will, as you say, piss Dean off.  Perhaps enough to say and do something about his painfully obvious attraction.”

At this, Harry finally laid down his objection.  “You realize they are brothers, right?” he asked carefully.

Bob waved an elegant hand.  “Yes, but who else do they have? Who else could either of them say they trusted implicitly other than the other? Who else understands what they have been through? Who else will always be there?”

Harry studied Bob silently for a long moment.  He’d been taught under Bob for years, almost twenty five, and had long since learned to discern Bob’s mercurial moods.  Bob, for all intents and purposes, was hiding something.  Though it was impossible for the ghost and the wizard to Soul Gaze, Bob’s eyes were downcast, staring at the floor.  There were tight lines at the corner of his eyes, and his mouth was drawn ever so slightly, betraying himself.  “Sounds a bit like you and I,” Harry said, only half joking.

Bob’s head came up instantly.  “A bit, yes, except for we are not brothers.  And I,” he added painfully, “am dead.”

With that, the conversation ended, and Bob dissolved into orange and black motes of dust and fire, swirling away into his cold, lonely and empty skull.

“Stars. And. Stones ” Harry growled, before heading into the lab to do some last minute research.  Who knew when that Angel - Angel  - was going to come back.  There was just too much to do.

And they had no food in the house.

Or money.

And the damn cat was still missing 

*

The leaves of the Juniper tree were rustling.  It wasn’t exactly a strange phenomenon, as Chicago was called the windy city for a reason, but the leaves were rustling in the opposite direction of the blowing wind.  “All right,” Dean said when the tree came into view, “that’s just scary.”

Dryly Sam said, “are you going to start bitching about how we never deal with nice trees?”

“No,” Dean replied sourly.  “I was talking about the bleeding bark.”  He pointed, and in between the knobs of bark, dark red blood oozed down the trunk into the mud.  “I feel like we’re in Sleepy Hollow or something.”

Sam didn’t respond, he just rolled his eyes, and took a step forward into the mud.  The tree reacted violently and slammed a thick branch into his chest.  Sam flew backwards, and Dean pulled out his gun and shot at the center of the tree.

The sound that emerged was like nothing either of the Winchesters had ever heard before.  It was the sound of trees screaming, breaking, bending, and the center of the tree opened up and, vomiting noxious red liquid, exposed the screaming head of Cavin Alloui.  

It was clear that the body of the boy had been sucked up into the tree, though there was flesh missing from his arms, they were splayed out at ninety degree angles, surrounded entirely by wood pulp and bark.  His waist was cut away, but the tree encircled it.  Blood oozed from the boys wounds, and the frightening cadavers head twisted this way, and that with pain.

“Holy shit,” Dean breathed.  The head came up, a parody of life in its death glazed eyes. 

“Help me,” the boys mouth said.  “Help me.”

Then the tree wrapped in on itself and the leaves twitched again.  

It was obvious that it was a warning.

Sam limped back to Dean’s position just outside the circle of mud.  “That,” Sam said, wheezing, “sucked.”

“Anything broken, Sammy?” Dean asked automatically, relaxing when Sam shook his head.  “So what do we do about...?” he gestured.  “Can we even do a salt and burn?”

“I don’t know,” Sam murmured.  “I’ll look up the tree in one of the libraries.  Look, there, on the center part of the trunk? There’s a spray painted red x.  This tree was once marked for being cut down.”

Dean looked at it for a moment.  “It’s clearly a healthy tree.”

“So why was it marked for demolition?  Exactly.”

They backed away from the tree as it rustled another warning before falling still.  The last they saw of it before turning around and leaving the park was a dove landing on the top most branches.  They heard the crunch and the squawk after. 

“Do you even know how to get to the library, Sammy?” Dean asked, as they got into the impala.

“Um.  No, but it shouldn’t be that hard.”

They found the library with little trouble and Sam immediately burrowed himself into the reference section.  Dean surfed around on the internet for a while, quickly growing bored with waiting.  

A few college girls wandered by him, giggling when he followed their movements with his eyes.  Until Sam dropped something in front of him.  “Look,” Sam said urgently.

A newspaper lay there, the date only marked several weeks beforehand on the top of the corner.  The picture of the dead tree looked up at him.  “It’s a Juniper tree,” Dean said dumbly.  “And it was dead less than a week ago.”

Another book fell in front of him.  “Grimms fairy tales,” Dean murmured.  “Grimms fairy tales?  Shit ”  He opened the book to the marked page and read it quickly.  “The Juniper Tree, blah blah blah...mother killed the son, fed him to the father...and oh god...” He looked up at Sam in horror.  “You think the mother?”

“I know the mother did it.”

“Shit ” Dean swore again.  “We should take this back to Dresden.”

Sam couldn’t imagine that Harry was going to be pleased with their findings.  

He wasn’t wrong.

**Part Three**

**The Ghost**

Patricia Alloui sat nervously in the Interrogation room, twisting her hands in front of her.  Murphy watched impassively through the one way window and Kirmani stepped up behind her, with coffee.  “So what’d she do?” he asked.  He’d taken her in on suspicion for the alimony she and her husband had worked out before marriage but he knew that if she was really stiffing Louis that the case would be transferred out of SI right away.

“I think she killed Cavin,” Murphy said, touching the necklace that Anna had given her for her birthday one year.  It always gave her comfort during the children cases, knowing that her own daughter was safe at home, or at school.  

“How can you be sure?” Kirmani asked, instantly suspicious. “This doesn’t have anything to do with that quack Dresden, does it?”

Murphy gave her partner a flat look.  “Kirmani, if I didn’t know any better I’d say you were obsessed.  No.  Look at the ribbon around her neck.”

Rolling his eyes, Kirmani did.  “What am I looking for?”

“The color,” Murphy said sardonically, waiting for Kirmani to clue in.  Several seconds later, his eyes half-heartedly searching, he froze.  “That’s blood,” he said slowly.  “Dried blood.”

“Yup,” Murphy said.  “How much do you want to bet that its Cavin’s?” 

With that last thought, Kirmani and Murphy entered the interrogation room together.  

*

Harry had just unlocked the front door when his phone started ringing.  “Stars and stones ” he swore, his arms full of the groceries they could afford.  He placed them at the door and leapt for the old rotary phone.  “Dresden,” he barked.

The person on the other end drew in a shaky breath.  “Harry? It’s me.”

The wizard went cold.  “Murph? What’s wrong?”

“Dresden, you might want to come down here,” Murphy said faintly.  “Something...strange happened.  Your kind of strange.”

“Stars and...I’ll be right there, Murph.”  Harry hung up gently.  “Shit,” he sighed, rubbing his eyes.  “Bob ” 

The ghost stuck his head through the wall.  “Yes, Dresden?”

“This crazy day isn’t over yet.”  I’ve got to head over to S.I.”

A slight frown marred his fine features.  “Whatever for?”

“Something Murphy classified as my kind of strange happened over in interrogation.”  Bob’s eyebrow raised.  “Yeah.  That can’t mean anything good.”

Bob stepped fully into the room.  “I will let your Winchester boys know where you have gone,” he offered magnanimously.

Grinning in relief, Harry blew out a sigh.  “Thanks, Bob.  I don’t know what I would do without you.”

Smug, Bob crossed his arms over his chest.  “Surely starve.  Put your groceries away before you run off again, Harry.”

“Hells bells ” Harry leapt up.  “Today is just is not my day,” he groused.  

Bob had the audacity to chuckle at him.  “Good luck, Harry.”

Putting the milk away, and pouring cat food for the missing Mister, Harry laughed at himself.  “Thanks, Bob.”

He waved, locking the door, and thundering off in his jeep a moment later.  The small smile that Bob had been sporting faded and he sank into the wall.

Only to come face to face with Castiel.  “Hrothbert of Bainbridge, I summon you,” the angel said, his voice a monotone.

“Oh...dear,” Bob murmured.

*

Kirmani was holding a paper towel to his mouth and looked like he was going to be sick when Harry arrived at the Chicago PD.  He saw Harry walk through the door and pointed a shaking finger at the elevator down to the morgue.

Raising an eyebrow, Harry took the stairs.  The way the week had been going, the 

elevator probably wouldn’t even work if he stepped into it.

“Hey Butters,” Harry said.  “Murph.”

Waldo Butters, several inches shorter than both Harry and Murphy waved sheepishly.  “Hey Harry,” he said, “I didn’t want to touch her until you got here.”

“Touch her?” Harry repeated blankly.  “Touch wh—ohmygod, Hells frickin’ Bells ” The body that Butters had pointed to was none other than Patricia Alloui, her head neatly severed off at the shoulders.  The head itself sat on its own tray, a look of stunned horror etched on her finely boned features.  “That’s...that’s the wife.”

“Yeah,” Murphy said, hugging herself.  “I took the Ribbon off and...” she gestured graphically.  

Harry blinked.  “Stars and stones,” he muttered with feeling.  He waved a hand over the body and instantly recoiled, trying to shake the black magic out of his limb.  “That’s bad,” he said dumbly.  “Oh, that’s bad.  That’s really, really bad.”

“What, Harry?” Muprhy said, her irritation clear.  “What the Hell happened?”

“That’s a spell.  Don’t roll your eyes at me, Murphy,” he cautioned, reading her face right.  “It’s like a controlling spell.  It’s ah....pretty dark.  Evil, dark.  It keeps the host body alive so long as the parasite can control it.  Hells Bells, it really is the tree.”

“Tree?” chorused Murphy and Butters, exchanging a look.

“The tree ” Harry pushed away from the body and turned to Murphy.    “Come with me?” he implored and she followed him without hesitation.

Butters turned to Patricia Alloui’s body, and rubbing his hands together, got to work.

Harry took the mostly silent Murphy to his car, driving as fast as the Bug was able towards Louis Alloui’s suburban home.  His car was in the driveway, as was Patricia’s.  Murphy murmured as they parked, “think he knows his wife is dead yet?”

“She’s been dead a long time, Murph.  The Ribbon was only keeping her animated.”  Harry got out of the car.  “We just need to find out if Louis is next.”

*

Bob was standing in the lab looking bewildered when Sam and Dean trooped in.  “Bob?” Sam asked cautiously.  “You all right?”

His green eyes snapped to Sams.  “Yes? Oh.  I’m fine Sam.  Never better.”  He smiled a little.  “How was your epic adventure with the Whomping Willow?”

Excitedly Sam held up the paper.  “It’s not a Willow, it’s a Juniper tree.”  Bob and Dean both hung in his pause.  Bob glanced at the eldest Winchester.

“I didn’t get it either,” Dean admitted.  

Sam rolled his eyes.  “Think Grimm’s fairytales.”

Bob’s eyes widened.  “The Juniper Tree  My God ” He rushed over to the bookshelf, one hand already out and he froze.

“...Bob?” Sam questioned.  “Are you sure you’re all right?”

“Yes,” Bob breathed.  “I’m fine.”  He forced a smile and turned around.  “I...Grimm’s fairytales.  Jakob and Wilhelm Grimm, they often wrote about real things,” he mused out loud.

“Like that 2003 movie ” Dean interrupted.

Bob blinked.  “Certainly,” he said blankly.  “Whatever you say.”  Sam snickered.  “But, in one instance, they literally stumbled upon something so gruesome most people don’t even know the story.  It is rarely published in anthologies, only the complete ones, which most people don’t bother reading as it is...”

“The Juniper Tree?” Dean asked.  “So, the mother kills the step-son, feeds him to the father and buries him under the Juniper Tree?  If that’s the case...”

“Then why did the mother die?” Harry asked from behind them, standing in the doorway.  “Just got back from SI.”

Everyone swivelled to face him.  “Patricia is dead?” Dean asked.

“They took off the Ribbon and her head fell off.”

Both the Winchester boys snorted.  “But that happens to the little boy in the story,” Dean protested.  When Sam stared at him, he added, “I read.”

“Yes,” Bob drawled.  “But that was in the book.  This is not a book.”

An awkward silence fell and Harry cleared his throat to rid the lab of the tension.  “By the way,” he said when everyone turned to look at him again, “Sam, Bob and I found some information out about Lilith for you.”

Sam’s eyes lit up.  “Yes?”

Bob gave Dean’s turned back a significant look and Harry

nodded for him to continue.  “Lilith...she herself, is a Seal.”  Dean whirled and the color drained from Sam’s face.  “And your ah...Demonic helper, Ruby?  She is the highest Acolyte of Lucifer.”

Sam made a wretched noise and covered his mouth with one hand.  Dean stepped closer so their shoulders brushed.  “She...is?” Sam whispered around his shaking fingers.  “She is?”

“Yes,” Bob said gravely. “Harry should do a Cleansing Spell on the both of you to rid you of Ruby’s and Lilith’s influence.  As it has been many months, it will be great.”

Dumbly, Sam could only nod and Dean murmured, “how did you find out?”

Bob pointed to one of the books on the many shelves.  “I might not remember Lilith’s crusade,” he said, smiling, “I am not as old as that, but I remember Ruby’s.  I was the one who created the Cleansing Spell, after all.”  He carefully didn’t look at Sam.  “I often used Demons to give me a power boost.”

“When can we do this?” Dean asked.

Bob jerked his head at Harry.  “Whenever he can.”

Sam turned pleading eyes on Harry.  “Harry,” he murmured.  “Please.”

Dresden stepped into the lab.  “Tell me what I need, Bob.”

*

Sam was screaming.  Blood was pouring out of his ears, eyes and nose.  Though his face was twisted in a grimace of pain, Harry kept chanting low under his breath.  White light pulsed and weaved around him, vanishing the blood as it fell.  Dean’s cleansing had only taken ten minutes.  Sam’s was going on twenty.  When the spell had ended, Sam stood, hunched over himself panting.  “Sam?” Dean asked cautiously.

The man looked up, his eyes bright.  “Dean,” he whispered.  “I’m okay.”

Harry smiled in relief, the Sight that Sam gave him was a happy one.  “You good, kid?”

Sam stepped out of the circle.  “Yeah.”  He folded the wizard into his arms.  “Thank you,” he said into Harry’s ear.  “I almost destroyed the world if not for you.”

“But you didn’t,” Harry said.  “Almost only counts in horseshoes and hand grenades.”

“And,” Dean chimed in, “nuclear warfare.”

The lab dissolved in laughter (and a hidden smile from Bob) as the door upstairs jingled alarmingly.  Feeling an intense sense of de’ja vu, Bob asked Harry, his smile fading, “didn’t you lock that?”

“Yeah,” Harry said, exchanging a look with Sam. “I did.”  Then the screaming started.  “Somebody’s not supposed to be here...” he lilted under his breath.  “Let’s go.”

“I’ll be in my skull,” Bob murmured.

It was Ruby.  She lay on the floor, stuck in Dean’s two devil’s traps.  “Sam ” she panted.  “What the hell?”

His eyes were cold and flat.  “Ruby,” he replied evenly.  “You lied to me.”

“I’m a Demon, of course I did ” she shouted, her voice breaking.  “What exactly did I lie to you about?”

Dean snarled.  “Lilith is a Seal ” 

Ruby’s head came up slowly, her eyes Demon black.  “You cannot possibly know that,” she growled.

Harry grinned.  “Except that he has me now, lady.”

Ruby’s lip curled, sensing a victory.  “I smell Hellfire on you, wizard,” she purred.

He raised an eyebrow.  “Lash and I parted ways.”  He glanced at Dean who held Sam back forcibly.  The other man nodded.  “But I still have fire.”  Ruby began to scream before the spell was even completed.  “Fuego.”

*

Sam, Dean and Harry stood just outside the mud pit.  The juniper tree twitched its leaves at them angrily.  Harry handed Sam the Ribbon he’d gotten from Murphy.  “Around your wrist,” he advised.  “Not your neck.”

Sam wrapped the stiff silk around his forearm.  “You really think it’ll work?”

“It should,” Harry said.  “But...be careful anyway.”

Armed with salt, gasoline, and Dean’s lighter, Sam stepped into the mud.  The tree twitched, then settled with a drawn out groan that sounded like pleasure.  They waited with bated breath but it seemed as though the tree was content to let Sam pass.  Sam circled the tree carefully, laying down salt and gasoline carefully.  The tree still didn’t move.

Sam reached out carefully and touched the tree at its bleeding X.  Slowly, so slowly, the tree opened and spurting out bloody pulp, the body of Cavin Alloui fell into Sam’s arms.

At that moment, the tree and the ground around it went up in flames as Sam dropped the lighter.

“Sam ” Dean shouted.  “Sam  ”

Harry hauled him back out of the circle of bloody mud.  “Don’t ”

Though the wizard knew only a few seconds had passed, it felt like a lifetime until Sam strode out from the flames, cradling the cut up and eaten body of Cavin Alloui.  

The three of them stood there watching and waiting for the burning to stop.  It took two hours but the tree was finally reduced to ashes.  

Harry took Sam’s cell phone from him, and with a murmured spell, called Murphy.  “Murphy,” he said into it when she answered.  “Meet me at the park.”

“Why...?” she asked suspiciously.

“We have the boys body,” he said.

“Shit, Dresden ” she barked.  “Did you move it?” 

Harry glanced behind him as Sam and Dean dug a hole at the burned base of the tree.  “No,” he said, “but we did dig him up.”  He gestured for them to hurry it up.  “We’re by that tree that was supposed to be demolished this week.”

“The dead Juniper tree?” she asked.  

The Winchesters were putting the body carefully into the ground.  “Yeah,” Harry answered.  “It seems to have fallen prey to some vandalism.”  He could fairly hear Murphy’s best unimpressed face through the phone.  “We chased some kids out of the area, they burned the tree down.” 

“And how did you know the boys body would be there?” she asked skeptically.

“Old wizarding trick,” he lied easily.  “Can’t tell you how it works.”

Murphy sighed, giving up.  “We’ll be there.”

*

“Hey Sam?” Dean asked, judging that his brother wasn’t asleep by the caliber of his breathing.  “You awake?”

There was a rustle of movement, and Sam rolled over to face Dean.  “Yeah?”

“Why were you up in Harry’s room the other night?” 

Considering they’d worked through the previous night, and the sun was just beginning to rise, Sam bit back the crude comment.  “The couch isn’t that comfortable, Dean,” he said slowly.  “And Harry has let me sleep in his bed before.  I had a nightmare and didn’t want to wake you.”  He gave his brother a soft look.  “You generally don’t sleep through the night anymore than I do.”

Dean gazed at him for a long moment.  “You were...kind of all over him.”  

His brother snorted.  “Harry’s a bit of a wild sleeper.” 

Slowly, though he tried to keep the expression from his face, Dean looked incredulously at Sam.  “...Dude,” he said finally, “are you gay?”

Sam snorted again, laughing quietly into his pillow.  “Sometimes,” he answered honestly.  “Jessica liked getting me drunk and picking up guys, so she could watch.”  He grinned a little, turning to look at the ceiling.  “It was really hard to be straight around her, considering I was the first man she dated since early high school.”  Dean whistled low under his breath.  “Harry was a big help before Standford.  He gave me what I needed.”

“Which was?” Dean asked hesitantly.

Sam glanced at him out of the corner of his eye.  “Closure.”

Dean breathed in sharply and looked away.  The two brothers lay in silence for a while before Dean finally asked, “would you prefer to be up there with him, right now?”

“No,” Sam answered honestly.  “We haven’t really talked...not since you told me about Hell.”  He sat up, pushing his hair out of his face.  “I miss you, Dean.”

“Hey,” his brother warned, “no ch ick flick moments.”

Sam snorted and brushed the fringe of hair out of Dean’s eyes.  “You’ve been having more of those than me,” he reminded with a laugh.  “Besides, you were the one who started this conversation out about relationships.”

“I just...I wanted you to know that I wouldn’t care, if you wanted one.  With Harry.”  Dean said lamely.  

Sam grinned.  “I don’t need a relationship with Harry.  He’s a good friend.”

It was Dean’s turn to sit up and look at his brother closely.  “Everyone needs someone, Sam.  You don’t get laid nearly as much as I do.”

There was something in the air between them and Sam took the initiative.  “I have a great relationship,” he said slowly.  “With you.”

“That wasn’t...what I meant,” Dean murmured weakly, not convincing anyone.

Sam leaned forward.  “Wasn’t it?”

*

When Harry woke up in the very late afternoon, he peered over the edge of his balcony, wondering what had woken him.  A sound like the tinkling of bells floated in on the cross breeze from his open window and when he blinked, Castiel stood at the foot of his bed.  Harry could only blink again.  “Whuzzat?” he muttered, sliding back down under the covers.  “What do you want?”

Russet wings rustled in the breeze and Castiel gazed down at Harry somberly.  “I find that I am in your debt, wizardling,” he said, his voice soft.  “The world we knew was slowly disintegrating the more demon blood Samuel would imbibe.”

Harry blinked again, and rubbed his eyes.  “I just...did what any wizard would.”

“Donald Morgan wouldn’t,” Castiel pointed out flatly.  “Ancient Mai, or Emrys Merlin.  Your nemesis LaFortier,” he named off the High Council’s wizards, all of whom had it out for Harry himself.  “You are an anomaly amongst magic users, Harry Dresden.”  There was a smile in Castiel’s eyes that didn’t betray his mouth.  “I would assume it was from Michael Carpenter’s influence.”

“Tell me something, Angel,” Harry said.  “Does God truly exist?”

Castiel’s wings twitched, but his face betrayed nothing.  “Only if you truly believe,” he said.  “The faith of Angels is never enough.”

“Then why keep fighting?” the wizard asked.  “Why continue when you don’t even know if you’re doing the right thing?”

The Angel’s head tilted a little to the side.  “Why not?” he asked, and, if he were listening, Harry would have heard the hint of amusement in his voice.  “I just do.”

“Then...” but Castiel held up one hand and Harry trailed off.  

“I have given you a gift, Wizardling.  You only get one chance,” the angel mused out loud, “many people do not even get that much.  Good luck,” he added earnestly.  “And thank you.”

When Harry blinked again, Castiel was gone.  But there was, at the foot of his bed, a dark russet brown feather that glowed gold when the light caught it.  He placed it in his bedside drawer, and even when the sun finished setting, the feather still glowed.

**Epilogue**

**The Cat**

When Harry woke up for real, it was almost six in the morning.  The sun was just beginning to rise, and he realized that for once, there was nothing pressing in on him.  And then Mister jumped up onto the bed.  He meowed once, piteously, rubbing his head against Harry’s chin.  “Hells Bells, cat, where the hell did you come from?”

Mister merely started purring and curled up on Harry’s chest.  Snorting to himself, Harry dropped his head back on the pillow and let the thirty pound weight of his missing cat rumble him back into sleep.

Dean opened his eyes to find himself wrapped in Sam’s arms.  His taller brother was curled up behind him, gently pressing his knees behind Deans.  One long arm was curled over his stomach, Sam’s fingers clenched in Dean’s tee-shirt.  Dean grinned and closed his eyes again, snuggling into the warmth at his back.

Sam opened his eyes and nuzzled his nose into the hair at the back of Dean’s neck.  “Morning,” he murmured quietly.

“Something,” Dean whispered back.  “Any ideas what time it is?”

“Far too late for you two to continue sleeping,” the acerbic Bob said, a hint of amusement in his tone from somewhere to their left.

Dean jerked upright, dislodging a laughing Sam.  “Where the hell did you come from? ” Dean shouted.  Bob merely laughed.  “How the hell do you do that, ghost?”

“You said it yourself,” Bob said, thumbing his nose.  “And how.”

Sam climbed out of bed, stretching his long limbs.  “Come on, Dean,” he said with a wide smile.  “We should be getting on the road soon anyway.”

Bob’s eyes saddened a little as he said it.  “You best be keeping in better touch, Samuel Winchester,” he said fiercely.  “We are quite tired of worrying about you, let me tell you.”  

Sam was about to respond but Harry clattered down the stairs, dressed and smiling.  “If you ever need help,” he said easily.  “How about the diner for breakfast?”

*

Waving Sam and Dean off, Harry turned and faced Bob.  “You’ve been pretty mobile,” he said.  “Bored of the lab?”

“Insanely,” Bob said dryly.  “And Sam is always good company.”  Mister loped down the stairs and meowed plaintively. “I see you found that monstrous animal,” he added which made Harry chuckle.

Then, Mister padded slowly over to Bob, his yellow cat eyes on him in a way that made Bob very nervous.  Mister gazed at him for a long moment before he started purring and rubbed against Bob’s leg.

Harry’s eyes about fell out of his head.  “Bob?” he breathed.

The former ghost scooped up the purring cat.  “Surprise?” he said weakly.

The cat was forgotten as Harry yanked Bob into his arms for a tight hug.  “Stars and stones, Bob, how?”

“The angel,” Bob answered, holding onto the other wizard just as tightly.  “He told me that God - or whoever, really - had more of a say over my sentence than the Council did.”  Bob pulled away.  “It is nice to touch things again,” he said.

“It’s good to touch back,” Harry murmured.

Bob’s fingers tightened on the edges of Harry’s sleeves.  “Oh Harry, don’t.” 

Immediately concerned, Harry pulled away to look Bob in the eye.  “Don’t what, Bob? You think I don’t know what I’m getting into? I was eleven, right, when you were introduced to me as Hrothbert of Bainbridge? You’ve never been that to me.  You’re Bob.  When was the last time you thought of yourself as Hrothbert of Bainbridge, the Necromancer and Thaumaturgist?”

Letting out a long slow breath, Bob replied slowly, “it has been...a very long time.”

“Then trust me,” Harry said.  “Trust me to keep you in line, just like you have been for me.”

Bob didn’t respond verbally.  He just kissed Harry instead.

*

They stopped at a gas station somewhere inside the border of Minnesota, and Sam ran to get them coffee while Dean pumped the gas.  Sam stood in the line with two piping hot styrofoam mugs of the black liquid, gazing out at Dean.  “He’s a cute one,” the girl behind the counter said.  “How long have you been together?”

“Our whole lives,” Sam answered honestly.

As she rang up the coffee and two candy bars, she made a cooing noise that once would have made Sam cringe.  “How’d you meet?”

Sam offered her a brilliant smile.  “He saved my life.”

“That’s so sweet ” she squealed while handing back his change.  “Good luck ”

“Thanks ” He jogged out to his waiting brother and gave him a quick peck on the lips before giving him the coffee.  “Ready?” he murmured.

“Two queens or one king?” Dean asked with a wide, lecherous grin.

Sam laughed, almost spilling his coffee.  “Two queens,” he answered, “definitely.”

*

Harold Killinger kicked at the dirt the burned tree had destroyed.  His crew had dug up the stump and tossed it in the back of the truck already.  They had watered and put down grass seed and fertilizer, but the ground was still earthly black.

Something lay innocently in the grass a few feet away and grumbling about litering, Harold picked up a red ribbon.  He tied it around his wrist, taking two steps before darkness claimed him.

To the rest of the world, Harold Killinger got back into the cab of the truck and drove away.  

The next day the grass had grown, and a tree sapling had taken root.  

Harold Killinger lovingly tied the Ribbon around his wife of seven years neck, and never noticed when her eyes rolled up in the back of her head, and never noticed when his ten month old started getting sick.

To him, and everyone else, everything was just fine.

*** End**


End file.
